


Love Lost

by wildfrancium



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, M/M, Slow Build, WWII era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildfrancium/pseuds/wildfrancium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a love story that starts in May 1944 in Manzanar Japanese Internment Camp in the United States.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing WWII fics and I've been really interested in the Japanese internment camps in the United States. I've only recently started researching the subject so I'm sorry for errors. This is a love story though. I hope people enjoy. 
> 
> issei - Japanese immigrant/first generation   
> nisei - second generation American born Japanese with US citizenship  
> sansei - third generation American born Japanese with US citizenship and nisei parents

He had never been inside the school building, not that it was much different than the other buildings. The students stared at him as he crossed the room to the shelving that had all collapsed. There wasn’t much Hajime could do considering the poor design, but his boss had told him to at least look like he was trying.

“This is a mess,” he muttered. All the shelves had detached from the posts.

“It’s happened before, but this is the last shelf,” the teacher explained. Hajime looked at him. He was tall with well-kept hair and a faded suit. He still had a slight accent, but it had faded even in two years. Hajime turned away from him, trying not to remember their first meeting.

“What did you do with the other shelves?”

“We use stones to hold the shelves and then stack them,” he explained pointing to the other side of the room. Books were lined up on crude excuses for shelves. The room was over crowded, kids sitting close together at worn out desks that were shoved into the tiny classroom. There had to be at least 35 kids.

And the weather was getting hot again.

“I’ll see what I can do. I don’t have much to work with,” Hajime said digging through his bag. He had some nails but everything was in need of repair. He didn’t know if a bookcase was worth it.

“All well class, while he does that, how about we open our math books.”

The room was filled with groans and shuffling papers as the kids moved onto their next subject. Hajime watched the teacher put his glasses on and start writing problems on the board. He wondered if the guy was a teacher before they ended up where they were. He probably was. Hajime doubted anyone who didn’t want to be a teacher could control an over flowing classroom.

He got to work pulling the old, bent nails out of the shelves while listening to the lesson behind him. He’d always been good at math. He was supposed to go into accounting like his father.

Now he was just a repairman. He was lucky enough to have spent his summers working construction jobs and in the camp that was enough for him to be a semi-skilled worker.

He fixed the bookshelves, apologizing profusely for the noise when he had to hammer. The classroom had gotten hot in just the hour he’d been there. The small windows provided little ventilation if any. But the bookcase was whole again.

And the math lesson was over.

“Thank you Mr. Iwaizumi,” the teacher said with a wide smile. “May I ask which block you live in?”

“Uh 20,” Hajime said packing up his tools. He had three more runs to make before dinner.

“Okay, thank you,” the teacher said smiling again. Hajime nodded. “Class, let’s thank Mr. Iwaizumi please,” he called and in unison the classroom thanked Hajime. He offered a small wave as he left the room.

He crossed the dusty roads headed toward block 11 which had requested a roof repair. There wasn’t much they could do other than tack it down again and he didn’t have a ladder. But he was still sent out.

He bypassed the long lunch line, heading for the recreational room in the block. While rain was rare, tears in the roof were still a pain. Dust and dirt blew in and coated everything. The room was cleared out since it was lunch, but he didn’t have an issue finding the problem. It was about a fist sized hole. It would need to be patched.

Hajime pulled out a notepad and wrote the assessment down. It would be added to the list of other areas that needed to be repaired and hopefully it’d get taken care of within the month.

He left block 11 with a growling stomach. He didn’t have time to wait in line most days, so he either went without lunch or one of his friends would bring him something they scored.

The sun was hot and the sky was cloudless. It was a hot May meaning it’d only get hotter. In the distance he could see the gardens in full bloom. He’d give anything to stop working and go relax. Just sit in the shade by a pool and not think. A mindless escape.

He thought about the teacher.

Hajime’s mother was a nurse in the hospital. He’d been hanging around with some guys when they heard a commotion. Later they had to say it wasn’t the guards that did it. But when they got to the teacher his face was all bashed and his clothes were bloody. Hajime had helped carry the teacher to the hospital. But that was the only time he’d seen him in the camp despite living there for over two years.

Two years already.

It made him angry. Wasting away in the camp where he was forced to work and live. He was a god damn American citizen and still he had to put up with this shit. His family didn’t even know anyone in Japan anymore.

Hajime stared at the sky. He would have fought for the United States. He would have fought for his country. All his friends ever talked about were how they were itching to get into the battles going on in Europe. He had friends from military families who always said it wouldn’t be long. That America had to enter the fray and shut Germany down.

His mother and father insisted that he finish college before joining the army. He graduated in the spring of 1941 with a degree in accounting, but all he really thought about was standing with his friends as they trekked through Europe to save the people of Poland or France or Denmark.

And then he was suddenly the enemy.

“Hajime!”

He turned to see Matt running towards him. They worked together, having met when they first arrived. Matt, like Hajime, he intended to join the army. They often talked about how when they heard the United States had entered the war, that they went to the recruiting offices.

Both of them had been turned away. Rudely.

And the problems only escalated from there.

Both had sat through tests to prove that they were loyal to America and no matter what they said, no one seemed to really believe.

A few people were chosen to go join the army and fight to prove that they were American. Hajime nearly begged to do just that. His mother said his name was probably too Japanese despite him being _sansei._ He figured it was the same for Matt.

Matt handed Hajime his half eaten bowl of rice. “Makki said you were at the school block, but when I went there it was only kids. Got in line early, so brought you what I didn’t eat,” he said sitting down on the ground and fanning himself. “How’s it only May? You going to the game tonight?”

“Yeah I guess. There’s nothing else to do,” Hajime said. Matt ran a hand through his hair.

“I got mail today. The guard called out where the fuck is Matsukawa even though we were all just hanging around. All I could think was I’m not Matsukawa, that’s my dad,” he said with a small laugh. “It’s always been Matt or Mattsun.”

“What was the mail?”

“Oh yeah it was from this girl I was good friends with. We dated a bit in high school, but she wanted to head East and I wanted to stick around LA and help with the restaurant,” he explained. Matt had been a chef before the United States entered the war. Where he worked struggled to stay open. He got word that it closed a few months after he and his family arrived at the camp. “She said she’d been trying to track me down since she heard about them removing Japanese people from their homes. I honestly don’t know how she found me, but I guess it was nice hearing from her. Nice to know that not everyone hates Japanese people.”

Matt had broken his arm when he got in a fight with people trying to set his house on fire. His dad was a dentist and had his practice broken into and trashed. Matt’s sister had been harassed at school.

It made Hajime ill thinking about it.

“And all I can think when reading that letter is how this German immigrant family moved into her old house and no one did shit to them,” he said throwing a rock.

“Fuckin’ Germans,” Hajime muttered handing Matt the bowl back. He stood up and took it.

“If I don’t see you when the bell rings, just swing by block 18. I’ll be outside the shithole,” he said jogging off towards 18 to return the bowl. Or his next job.

Hajime looked at his to-do list and sighed. Part of him wanted to be back in the school room listening to lessons and just forgetting about all this shit. At least the kids had class to occupy their time. He worked for minimal wages and went home to a cramped room he shared with his mother. It was always loud in block 20. There were eight kids under the age of 5 and they were always crying. And with only cloth to separate their apartment from the next; well they might as well all be living in one giant room.

And it wasn’t that he hated them. He liked everyone in his block, but sometimes he felt like the only place he got any privacy was when he was in the toolshed alone or in the bathroom stall trying to block it all out.

He headed towards the hospital block. Once a day he was sent to the hospital for repairs, most of them were, because it was the one place constantly falling apart.

It was near the school block and Hajime scanned the classes that were outside playing. The kids were all happily screaming as they ran around playing tag. He spotted the teacher standing in the small bit of shade next to the building. He’d taken his suit jacket off, Hajime noted.

And then he waved. The teacher waved at him. Or at least he might have.

Hajime just stood watching, not waving back in case the teacher wasn’t really waving at him. He stared for another few beats and then he turned away and kept walking.

 

 

 

After assessing and finishing his work at the hospital, Hajime went in search of his mother. He found her tending to some elderly patients and patiently waited for her to finish.

“Hajime!” she said happily, hugging him tight. “Were you here to work?” she asked. He nodded.

“Hey mom you know when we were first here and that guy got beaten up?” he asked. She sighed.

“Hajime, I’ve seen dozens of people who have gotten beat up.”

“The teacher?” he asked hoping she’d remember.

“Mmm maybe. Was it before December 1942?” she asked rubbing her head. He nodded. “Well, everything was still newer then. I did treat a Tooru Oikawa. He had his face all banged up because he was _issei._ ”

“Yeah that guy. Tooru.” Hajime didn’t know why he felt better knowing the teachers name. hell, he didn’t know why he didn’t ask when he was standing right in front of him. He wondered how he felt; being in the camp. He’d obviously said stuff the government wanted to hear since he wasn’t shipped off to Japan. But… Hajime wanted to know how long he’d been in America. Did he get to experience everything Hajime loved about LA?

Or did he show up just to be locked up. Was he on the American side?

There’d been separation when he’d arrived in April of 1942. He was told not to hang out with _issei_ as if it would make him less American. As if it would make him more of the enemy.

And he felt that way in the beginning. Understanding that they were closer to the enemy. But as time went by… they were all Japanese in the end. Well most of them. A family in block 20, it was only their dad who was half Japanese and the three kids who were a quarter. He’d heard some people didn’t even know that had Japanese in them. That the government was going out of its way to find everyone with a hint of Japanese blood because that made them the enemy…

Yet he wanted to fight for his country.

“I’m headed to my last stop. I’m going to the game with Matt and Makki later though,” Hajime said hugging his mother.

“Okay. I won’t wait up.” She kissed his forehead and then he headed out. His last stop was another roof assessment. High winds the last few months had been rough, throwing rocks and tearing at the shitty roofs.

As he walked he thought some more. Usually he didn’t dwell on the past or the fact that he was a prisoner in his own country. He spent the days believing the United States would win the war against the Nazi’s and Japan and then he’d be free. So many people around him were angry, and he was, but he focused on survival. He remained in the mindset that one day he would be free and he’d go back to his house and they’d continue out their days with the camp nothing more than a dark, distant memory.

Hajime wasn’t a violent person, even if he didn’t mind the thought of killing some German’s. Whenever his coworkers got riled up, he was called in to diffuse the situation. He helped the people in his block. Being in the camp made him angry, but he didn’t need to do anything about it. What was he supposed to do about it?

He shook his head. It was because he was thinking about the teacher and his faint accent and faded suit and soothing teacher voice.

Hajime sighed.

 

 

 

When he returned to block 20 at the end of the work day, the teacher was waiting for him. It surprised him even though the teacher had asked where he lived. He carried his suit jacket over one arm and held a paper in the other.

“Mr. Iwaizumi,” he said politely. His glasses were tucked into his shirt pocket. “This is a thank you card from my class. Everyone signed it in cursive which we are practicing so it is a bit messy,” he said proudly.

Hajime took the card. He’d been thanked for his work before, but nothing as grand as a card. His eyes scanned all the signatures; some more legible then others.

“Sincerely, the third grades in Mr. Oikawa’s class,” he said reading the elegant cursive at the bottom. So his mother had been right about the name. “Thanks. It was just a shelf,” Hajime said suddenly feeling embarrassed. The teacher grinned.

“Kindness should always be rewarded with kindness because if you can only be one thing, chose to be kind,” the teacher recited. Hajime’s parents had always said something similar to him.

“Do you want to go to the game?” Hajime blurted out. “The baseball game. There’s one tonight and I’m going with some friends.”

“Oh that sounds wonderful. Do you mind if I bring some work? I have to grade tests we took on the Civil War.”

“Uh sure,” Hajime said rubbing the back of his neck. Do you want to meet me here after dinner?” he asked. The teacher nodded.

“I will return then, Mr. Iwaizumi,” he said with a bigger smile. Hajime returned the smile.

“Call me Hajime,” he insisted.

“Then please call me Tooru,” the teacher said extending his hand to shake Hajime’s. it was a firm shake.

He watched Tooru go wondering why he invited him to hang out. Chances were they had nothing in common, except for perhaps enjoying baseball? But it felt like the right thing to do. He was pleased that Tooru had accepted the invitation and was looking forward to seeing him later.

Hajime entered the block and went to his apartment. He quickly changed and splashed some water on his face. He wondered if it was weird for Tooru to offer his first name. Hajime knew that in Japan it was common to call people by their last name, his grandparents talked about how it was very strange for them to have acquaintances refer to them by their first names. And it wasn’t uncommon to be called by a last name. Most of the men Hajime worked with referred to each other by their last names. Matt and Makki’s nicknames had come from their last names.

He looked in the mirror. He was already turning tan from the sun and he looked tired. He ran his hand through his hair. He wanted to look nice for later. Or at least decent.

After a few attempts at fixing his hair he deemed it good enough and headed out to get in line for dinner, hoping he’d get a good spot and that the line would move fast so he could head to the game on time.

 

 

 

Tooru was dressed more casually when Hajime found him outside block 20. He’d changed into different trousers and wore a short sleeve button up. He smiled when he saw Hajime. “To the games then?” he asked. Hajime nodded.

“Are those the tests?” he asked nodding to a folder Tooru held.

“Yes. Although we covered this information last quarter. The tests were only shipped in last week meaning we had to do a review. Instead we’ve been doing oral exams because the state doesn’t deliver tests in time for grading periods,” Tooru explained. Hajime had heard things like that from his friends with siblings and the kids in his block.

“Were you a teacher before coming here?” Hajime asked. He wasn’t surprised when Tooru nodded.

“I arrived in 1939 when I was nineteen and got a job teaching second grade right away. While studying in Japan I had made friends with some students from America who were in Japan to study. When we graduated, I came over with them. My English was very good at that point so it wasn’t too hard finding work.”

“Mmm. I figured. I don’t think anyone could handle a class that big,” he commented. Tooru laughed.

“Perhaps you are right. It is more challenging at times. We don’t have much supplies and pencils are always going missing and books are missing pages, but I think a lot of people are capable of teaching.”

“Maybe,” Hajime said even though he knew he could never teach.

“What were you doing Hajime? Before the camp?”

“I was gonna be an accountant like my dad. Or a soldier. Everyone I knew was itching to be a part of the war… wasn’t picked though,” he said with an edge to his voice. “My dad was part of the army in the Great War. Kind of. He went to England and helped run the books for the army budget. He never fought, but I always loved his uniform.”

“I never wanted to be a soldier. That was part of the reason I left Japan,” Tooru explained. “And I wanted to travel. I hope to one day and write books about the places I go and experience.”

“Are you gonna write about here?” Hajime asked. The baseball diamond was coming into view; the game already under way.

“Yes I will,” Tooru said. “Assuming one day we leave. I don’t think a book would get very far if we’re still locked inside.”

Hajime laughed. “Up here. We always sit over here,” he said motioning for Tooru to follow him. He dreamed of freedom. It’d take years off his life to worry about being in the camp forever.

Hajime high-fived Matt and Makki as he slid onto the bleachers. Tooru sat next to Hajime, smiling at the unfamiliar faces.

“Guys this is my teacher from Tooru Oikawa. Tooru this is Matt and Takahiro Hanamaki.”

“Yeah I’m just Matt or Mattsun if you wanna get fancy,” Matt laughed. “I’m trying to distance my first name from myself thanks to some issues with the government.”

Tooru looked confused, but shook Matt’s hand.

“And just keep it short with Makki,” Makki said shaking Tooru’s hand next. “What’s in the folder?”

“Oh I have tests to review,” Tooru said opening the folder. “I teach third grade at the school block.”

The pair nodded.

“They work with me,” Hajime said. “Although Makki is an overseer since he was in building management before coming to the camp.”

“Yeah the rest of us work while he sits on his ass,” Matt laughed even as Makki elbowed him.

“Look we’re trying to enjoy the game Matt,” he said stretching his hands over his head. “Although I don’t give a shit about either of these teams.”

“Yeah but at least both are okay plays. We aren’t just watching a slaughter,” Hajime pointed out. He glanced at Tooru who was watching the game. “Did you ever play?”

“Me?” Tooru asked. When Hajime nodded he shook his head. “My friends and I have tossed a ball around, but that was the extent of my baseball experience. Did you?”

“High school I did,” Matt said.

“But we’ve all fooled around and stuff. It’s America’s past time isn’t it?” Hajime said. “My parents listen to baseball on the radio all the time.”

“We should play on the weekend. Just out in the yard or something,” Makki said. The three didn’t work on Sunday’s and Hajime knew teachers had the weekend free. “Two on two or even get some of the others.”

“I would love to,” Tooru said.

“We can play in that area near block 14 where there’s that open road space,” Hajime said. When they played in the past they’d get a few rounds in before the kids took over. It was fun though and he wasn’t bad at batting or pitching.

They settled into watching the game. Hajime would frequently discuss plays and errors and how they’d be so much better if they were out on the field. Every once in a while he’d glance at Tooru. Sometimes he was scribbling comments on tests and other times he was watching the game. He didn’t say much, but he laughed at the jokes the other three made. Hajime liked when he laughed. It was quiet as if he were trying to remain polite, but it had a gentleness to it that Hajime liked.

The game only went to the sixth inning before being cut for curfew. The four of them headed away from the field under the floodlights. “I’ll walk you to the school staff block,” Hajime said to Tooru. “It’s on the way,” he added quickly.

“Thank you,” Tooru said. “It was a nice game too.”

“Yeah there’ve been better ones though. I’ll make sure to let you know when the good teams are playing. Did you finish grading?”

“I’d like that and yes I did. My students did fairly well so I was pleased,” Tooru explained.

“Mmm. So this Sunday, can I expect to see you?” Hajime asked hoping he didn’t sound over eager.

“Yes. I will meet you outside block 20 after lunch?” Tooru asked. Hajime nodded.

“Yeah that’d be great,” he said and they stopped outside the school staff building. They stood just beyond the reaches of the floodlights, hidden in the soft darkness that existed in pockets in the well-lit camp.

“Thank you for walking me back, Hajime,” Tooru said softly. Hajime liked the way his name sounded when Tooru said his name.

“You’re welcome Tooru. Take care and I’ll see you soon,” he said. They stood there for a moment before Tooru held out his hand to shake. Hajime shook, but felt a strange urge to reach out and… and he wasn’t sure. He felt heat rise to his face at the thought and was glad they were in the dark. “See ya,” he said again, offering a little wave as he turned.

Hajime walked away, glancing back once to see Tooru go inside the building. He frowned to himself as he walked for he wished he’d had more time to talk to Tooru, to learn about him. His interest in the teacher was almost overwhelming. He didn’t know if it was because he was _issei_ or a teacher or what. Hajime didn’t know anything except that he wanted to see Tooru again as soon as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this story isn't weird or anything. Also I hope it wasn't too weird using first names or calling Matsukawa Matt. I'm really enjoying writing this story and exploring this subject.


End file.
